You're Here
by Anna Fay
Summary: This time he didn't even have the decency to cut her off with a proper argument, only laughed at her so unpleasantly it made her want to scream. Then he got off from the sofa and walked up to her. "Know when you are beaten, princess," he crooned and was about to caress her face too, but she swatted his hand away.


"Where is he?" asked Effie as she stepped out of the elevator.

The new Avox boy was a clever one and motioned towards the living room without meeting her eyes.

"That will be all for tonight, thank you," she tried to sound as pleasant as circumstances let her. "Now leave."

He bowed his head and backed away, taking one of the girls by the hand and ushering the other one out of the room in a hurry too, closing the door leading to the service area silently behind themselves.

Once on her own, Effie smoothed the front of her dress with a deep breath, then started walking towards the living room.

The lights were out and only the television was on, tuned in on one of the channels that let you follow the same tribute nonstop. Haymitch was watching the Mason girl from Seven again. He had been oddly fascinated with that strange creature from day one.

"You're back!" he raised his glass cheerfully when Effie came to a halt next to the sofa he had been half sitting, half lying on. "It's past midnight. I almost though–"

"Where have you been?" she cut him off.

"Here." He patted the back of the sofa with a heavy hand. "And over there too," he added, motioning towards the plush armchair nearby, "but then I've made a bit of a mess, so I had to relocate."

"I see." She was fighting hard to keep her composure. "I presume you didn't get my messages then."

"Oh, I did, I did," he replied as he sipped his drink. "But didn't you get mine?"

"The one saying you were feeling indisposed?" she asked in a dangerously low voice.

"Yup." He smiled at her over the rim of his glass.

Feeling the urge to choke him to death contracting her throat, Effie swallowed hard before she went on. "Do you have any idea how hard it had been to get you an appointment with Caesar?"

"That's why I've bothered to send the message at all. For which you are welcome, by the way," he grunted as he fought himself into a more or less upright position then reached for the bottle on the table to refill his glass. She knew she should have left him to his drinking then and there, but she was way too angry to let it go.

"Was this some kind of an agreement between you and Chaff?" she asked.

"Agreement?" Haymitch looked at her in confusion.

"Did you step down so that he could take your place?" she demanded because knowing he did it for a friend would have made getting over it a lot easier for her.

"My what?" The glass in his hand stopped halfway to his lips. "Oh... They picked him? Poor bastard," he chuckled as he realised she was still talking about the lost opportunity of sharing the screen with Caesar Flickermann for almost a whole hour as his guest co-host.

"You know what? Forget it," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as if it could have any effect on her pounding headache. "I'm going to bed and I suggest you do the same, because we have a meeting with Hypatia Crane at ten sharp, and I swear to god, if you–"

"Is that still on?" He frowned.

"Of course it is, why wouldn't it be?" whispered Effie, fearing the worst. "What have you done?"

"Nothing." Haymitch raised his hand defensively. "But in case you haven't noticed; we no longer have any tributes to talk about with her."

"I have, thank you very much," she sneered. "But if she's still willing to meet us, then we'll be there, we'll meet her and we'll be on our best behaviour, because next year's tributes deserve to–"

"Oh, not that crap again!" he moaned.

"Excuse me?" Effie gasped.

"Just spare me the pep talk about next year being a new chance and all that, because it's not," he said. "Sorry to burst your bubble," he added, slurping his drink.

"You can't know that," she retorted without missing a beat. "All we need is–"

This time he didn't even have the decency to cut her off with a proper argument, only laughed at her so unpleasantly it made her want to scream. Then he got off from the sofa and walked up to her. "Know when you are beaten, princess," he crooned and was about to caress her face too, but she swatted his hand away.

"We are not beaten," she hissed.

"Tell that to the kids," he sighed as he walked on towards the liqueur cart. "Oh no, wait, you can't!" He snatched a fresh bottle. "'Cause they are dead."

His comment took Effie by surprise so much that for a moment she could do nothing but stare at him. "Listen," she finally cleared her throat, "I know you are upset, and I am too, but–"

"Are you?" He raised the bottle to his lips as if he dared her to prove him wrong.

"How can you ask that? Of course I am!" she raised her voice despite herself.

"Well, you seem to be a lot more upset about me missing some precious screentime than the kids getting killed off." Haymitch took another long swig.

She had seen him being bitter and unjust before, but this was quickly becoming a new low, even for him. "You're drunk," she said flatly, trying hard to keep her voice from shaking with anger and indignation.

"I am." He shrugged. "But it makes no difference."

"I have cared about them as much as you have!" she all but cried out.

"Of course you have! That was the least you could do after drawing their names and condemning them to death with a smile on your face," he sneered.

Effie had never been punched in her life, but she imagined it to feel just like that; making it hard to breathe and leaving you with a ringing in your ear. "Is that what you really think of me?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.

He must have known that saying yes would have made her walk away and never look back, but he was also too proud to go back on his word and say no, so he turned back to the cart for a refill. On any other day Effie could have dealt with that, but as she watched him drink with his eyes fixed on the ice in his glass so that he wouldn't have to meet hers, she could feel her blood boil.

"I see," she breathed, finding her voice to be surprisingly even. "At least I didn't hide behind a bottle like some coward and let them deal with it on their own," she hissed. "Again."

She knew she had hurt him deeply and felt oddly pleased when she saw all the colour leave his face, so she raised her chin slightly and delivered her final blow: "Ten sharp. Don't be late," she said, robbing him of the chance to fight back as she turned her back on him and walked away.

oOo

It hadn't been the worst fight they have ever had, but for the first time in her whole career as Twelve's escort, Effie had no idea what to expect once getting off the train at her District and it made her more nervous than she thought it would be humanly possible.

Johanna Mason had won the 71th Hunger Games in the early morning following their fight. Since physically she had been in an exceptionally good shape, the Gamemakers had decided to crown her victor on the very same day – a mere five hours after she had left the arena – so that she wouldn't have time to lose her wits like poor Annie Cresta had in the previous year.

It had been a great success and one of the most unforgettable end of the Games shows, but it had also meant that Haymitch had been out of the Capitol by the end of the week; long before they have had the chance to reconcile, and they haven't even spoken one word to each other since.

It took three whole days for Effie to find the strength to be the mature one and call him, but Haymitch simply refused to answer. Then a week and about a hundred tries later his phone went offline. Feeling more than a little worried for him, she was about to get in contact with the authorities in Twelve, when the next day she received a package containing an ancient telephone set, complete with its wires and junction box that had rough pieces of plaster still stuck to it.

Since the message couldn't have been clearer, she had given up trying to reach him after that.

As for the phone itself, it had spent the last few months hidden in her closet, then got smuggled back to Twelve in one of the shoeboxes that were to be delivered to his house upon her arrival with the rest of his new Victory Season outfits lest he ended up getting charged with damaging state property again. She just hoped he would take it as what it was: a peace offering.

Not that she had much more time to worry about that.

She was about to go and discuss the day's schedule with the head of their camera crew for one last time when Haymitch showed up at the station, wearing the coat with the white trimming. She knew he would pick that the moment she saw it on the rack.

"Hello, princess," he said as he walked up to her with his hands in his pocket.

"Hello, Haymitch," she replied.

There was no kiss on the cheek, no touching each other's arm, nothing. It felt awkard. It felt wrong.

"So," she started, but no matter how hard she tried to wreck her brain, she had no idea how to go on.

"So," he echoed, burying his hands deeper into his pocket and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Considering the mood he had left the Capitol in back in the summer, it could have been worse, but after all those months of silence, Effie decided that it was simply not good enough. "You're early," she stated the obvious just to say something.

He nodded in reply then studied her face for a moment before he spoke again: "You're here," he said.

"Why wouldn't I...?" she asked in genuine confusion.

He shifted his weight again in silence, sucking in his lower lip, and it was the moment when Effie realised he was struggling to find the right words too. She could have never believed that there was such a thing as a tentative leap of a heart, but there it was, right against her ribs.

"Well," she finally cleared her throat, "I hope you didn't think it would be so easy to get rid of me."

The noise Haymitch made was more like a snort than a laugh, but it made Effie laugh with him, then before she could have stopped herself, she moved closer and adjusted his collar ever so slightly. "There," she said, smoothing the fabric out and resting her hands on his shoulders for a moment just because she had the chance.

"Thanks," he replied, touching her elbow before she pulled away.

It was far from being the warmest of their reunions, but as far as first steps went, it wasn't bad at all, so when Effie started ushering him towards the crew, she felt herdelf to be considerably lighter than just five minutes before.

* * *

 _Oh my, this was a hard one. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think of it!_


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